AN: Tried a dialogue-only style for this one, because writing dialogue is my favorite thing ever. Hopefully it's clear who's talking at what time; it alternates.
Also, I have retconned Ludwig van Pelt out of existence. You might remember his mention in the Elton John chapter. I ultimately decided that Schrucy isn't gonna have kids, partially because I think that decision works for them, and partially because I was doing literally nothing with that kid.
In today's episode, Schroeder gets an interview on Lucy's talk show.
"My guest tonight is someone who needs no introduction."
"If I need no introduction, why are you introducing me?"
"Shut up and let me do my job."
"Alright."
"A classical pianist by passion first and by trade second, he learned to read musical notation before he learned the alphabet. He's composed more pieces than I can keep track of, including two symphonies, and is one of the youngest artists to receive regular features at Avery Fisher Hall. He is the modern! Day! Beethoven! Give a warm welcome to my husband, Schroeder Felton!"
"It's a pleasure to be here, Lucy."
"How's it feel to sit in the hot seat? Regular viewers will know you normally sit across the room. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were glued to that piano bench."
"This is a lot closer to the audience. But I think I can handle the pressure."
"Of course. You're used to an audience, after all. I don't get to join you on your stage nearly as often, but I know your seats are always packed."
"You know better than anyone how happy I am that there's still such an appreciation for classical music in the world. It's not as ubiquitous as I'd like it to be, but there's never a shortage of like-minded people who want to spend an evening at the concert hall."
"And once you're done playing your sonatas, you get to come play jazz for the Lucille Van Pelt on her show. What an honor."
"You're not the Lucille Van Pelt to me. You're just Lucy. You don't impress me."
"Wow!"
"Well, you do, but not in the same way that you impress most people."
"He keeps me humble, folks."
"You haven't been humble a day in your goddamn life."
"In what special way do I impress you? Feel free to go into detail."
"Is this an interview about my feelings for my wife or about my career and my personal accomplishments?"
"Why can't it be both?"
"It's stuff like this that endears me to you. You've never been shy – you've always been very upfront. I'm your celebrity guest for the week. This is going to be seen by countless people across the country. And you're asking me why I love you. And you know what? I suppose I'm telling you. You get everything you want, don't you?"
"You know what, you're right. As much as I would love to hear you wax poetic about how I'm your sun and your stars, we better save that for date night. Let's talk music."
"Go for it."
"We'll start simple. Who's your favorite composer?"
"Why are you asking a stupid question you already know the answer to?"
"I might know the answer, but the audience might not."
"I suppose you have a point. Well, my favorite composer is Ludwig van Beethoven. I've admired his work my entire life. He's the one who inspired my passion for music."
"What's your favorite color?"
"Seriously?"
"Answer the damn question."
"Hmm… indigo."
"Of course it is."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have a pretentious answer for everything."
"I guess I have to be a little pretentious by nature. After all, I'm a composer."
"I'm glad you have a sense of humor about it now. It's okay to be a little pretentious, in my opinion."
"If not for the pretentious people of the world, who would wear the mink stoles and demand designer evening gowns?"
"Ah, I see. The pot calling the kettle black. I'll choose to ignore that and move on to my next question: besides Beethoven, do you have any other musical influences? Any other composers that make your heart sing?"
"I'm a big Brahms aficionado. He's probably my second favorite. I play Bach and Bartók pretty often as well."
"You like the B names, huh?"
"Not just the B names. I have a fondness for Chopin, Schubert, Mozart… the 'Liszt' goes on and on."
"He's a comedian too, ladies and gentlemen! He's got it all!"
"Oh, and Tchaikovsky. Can't forget Tchaikovsky."
"Of course not."
"I enjoy his work too, but he's your favorite."
"I do adore his ballets. Do you have any favorite classical pieces in general?"
"Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14, better known as Moonlight Sonata, comes to mind. It's a pretty popular one and an easy answer, but it reminds me of my wife."
"Because I asked you to play it so much when we were younger?"
"That is one reason. But the movements are reminiscent of the different parts of your personality. Grave seriousness. A moment of sweetness. And a determination like a storm. 'A flower between two chasms', as Liszt once said."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Good. I meant it as one."
"Any other favorites?"
"Anything by Beethoven, but that goes without saying. I also appreciate Brahms's Piano Concerto No. 2. It's an incredibly difficult piece to perform, but memorizing it was rewarding."
"I can imagine. I remember when you were practicing that."
"And outside of the piano realm, I really love the violin. Haydn did a lot of great work with string instruments. He has a set of amazing violin concertos that I adore. Did I ever tell you one of them is lost?"
"I think so. Can you imagine how much music is lost forever? Never to be played again?"
"God, it makes my heart weep."
"C'est la vie."
"There's several lost Beethoven pieces, too. I lie awake some nights, thinking about how I'll never be able to experience everything he created."
"I've found it's best not to dwell on things like that."
"How can I not lament the incomplete archive of the greatest composer who ever lived? Oh well. At least he would appreciate it. I imagine he would, anyway."
"Sometimes I wonder what he'd think about the little birthday bashes we throw for him every year."
"He greatly appreciated fan gestures. One of my favorite letters he ever wrote was to a young fan named Emilie. Have I shown you that one yet?."
"Actually, it doesn't sound familiar. I'm shocked. How is there any Beethoven trivia I don't know yet?"
"I talk about him enough. You're probably pretty close to being an expert, too. But even I discover new things from time to time."
"If we ever get a dog, let's name it Emilie. And if it's a boy, Emile."
"It is a nice name."
"And less obvious than Ludwig or Elise."
"More posh than Snoopy."
"God, I miss that mutt."
"It's kind of amazing that he's still around. Do you ever think about how unusual that is?"
"Not really. Anyway, that reminds me – I was going to ask you to talk about your childhood. The people are dying to know if you've always been this talented."
"You sure know how to change a subject."
"I've gotten very good at that. Time is money, sweetie."
"In regards to your question, I had a relatively nice, if uneventful, childhood. And no, I haven't always been this talented. Obviously."
"It sure seems like you have."
"Well, I have always loved music. But it took a great deal of practice to hone my talent. I've played my piano almost every day for as long as I can remember."
"Do you think you've peaked, or is there still improvement to be made?"
"There's always room for improvement. But over the years, I've learned not to stress about my playing being one hundred percent perfect. I care about playing well, so I practice, but nobody is perfect."
"Except –"
"Except you, yes. Of course."
"Well, I was going to say Beethoven, but if the shoe fits…"
"Beethoven wasn't perfect."
"Wait, weren't we supposed to be talking about your childhood?"
"You're the one that derailed that."
"Fine, let's fix that: what's your earliest memory?"
"My earliest memory? Hmm… probably one of the mini concerts on my toy piano my mother had me perform for her book club. I remember some bits and pieces before that, but that's my first memory that feels solid."
"Do you remember what you played?"
"Not exactly. But I couldn't read musical notation yet, so I had taught myself to play a few songs by ear. My family had a Beethoven record, and once I had mastered Frère Jacques and Jingle Bells, I began tackling his German Dances and Minuets. My parents were impressed."
"I always respected your folks a lot for not turning you into a showpony."
"Yes, a living room concert for a handful of midwestern housewives is a lot different than exploitation. And I can think of some relevant commentary on this, but I'll try and refrain from bringing up Herr Beethoven for the fiftieth time today for the sake of variety."
"Doesn't bother me."
"Well, you aren't deterred by much."
"If we get any angry letters for talking about Beethoven too much, which I very much doubt will happen, I'll just throw them away."
"You do that with anything negative, anyway."
"Not if it's from my producer! And on that note, folks, we'll be right back after these messages. Coming up next, the magnificent Schroeder Felton performs La Campanella backwards while balancing an egg on his nose!"
"I absolutely won't be doing that."
"I bet you could, though."
